It seems like there’s a force at work at the preschool My spanish village playground. We entered with some skepticism, to be honest, and were met with an overwhelming number of children in a procession. As their footsteps pounded the sidewalk, their shouts echoed like wind chimes. A volunteer announced, “I own a pair of dinosaur socks!” “Want to see our rocket?” reads the message emblazoned on yet another airborne signpost. The tone was set by it. All of us came away with a fever if energy can be transmitted.
The classrooms have an air of sophistication and refinement that is great to see. Storytelling is what they do instead. Weathered works of art fastened to clotheslines. Midway up the structure, a jumble of wooden blocks appears. It was unconcerned with perfection. I was pleasantly surprised by how lived-in everything seemed. With her hands still sticky from stamp pad ink (“Blueberry scented this week,” she said), head teacher Ms. Jenna greeted us. “Never again!” she grumbled. She cut to the chase, saying, “We’re about to make moon sand.” No need for a formal introduction. Wanna lend a hand? I wanted to analyze with my adult intellect. Little ones tried to squeeze into everything.
Having a snack was like a mini-show. No need for oat milk or smoothies made in twelve steps. Animal crackers and peeled oranges were distributed. They argued loudly amongst themselves: crackers or fruit first? Interpersonal dynamics. During the debate, Ms. Jenna reduced it to a simple counting game. “If we divide this packet in half, how many crackers will we each receive?” Math used in the real world, the cunning way.
As far as I could tell, the preschool’s ideology is a bit like walking a tightrope. They combine large periods of free play with supervised activities like painting, story time, and song circles. The children were unaccompanied. Inventing games, resolving disputes, and developing their own moral compass were all tasks they were entrusted with.
Something caught my eye: a puppet without an eye and a shelf with more dents than medals. For a while there, I thought maybe things should be glossier. Nevertheless, I beheld a young child squirming within the reading tent, cradling the lifeless puppet, while recounting fantastical escapades involving mythical beasts, a pizza with magical powers, and an entity referred to as “the Cheese Volcano.” There it is. Show pony breeding wasn’t their focus. Kids with an imagination and the ability to repurpose found objects into stories were sought for.
Sure, pick-up and drop-off hours may get crazy. As children play with scissors, their parents chat, and a cacophony of “can I show you something?” resounds across the hall. There’s mayhem, a lot of paint on shirts, joy, and absolutely no boredom.
As we were saying our goodbyes, my fellow guest said, “It doesn’t look like a catalog, but it sure feels like home.” To be honest, I couldn’t refuse. The excitement isn’t insincere. This spot makes a genuine impact. By the way, the rocket really took flight. To some extent.